


Somewhere between Heaven and Hell Lies Hope

by Columba_Livia



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Flashbacks, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description of Injuries, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Whump, sooo much whump, this entire story was basically an excuse to write whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14233029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Columba_Livia/pseuds/Columba_Livia
Summary: Hope County Montana is a place most of the residents would describe as either Heaven or Hell on Earth, depending on who you asked.But the truth is something a little more in between.Because when we fight for something, truly fight, down to the last man. What are we without a little bit of Hope?(This story will follow my modifications to the entire Whitetail Mountains Arc of the game)





	1. Rescue

Everything hurt. Literally everything, from his scalp to his toenails, Logan’s entire body ached. It felt worse than the time he nearly drowned during basic, and that had left his body feeling like lead.

In fact, now that he was vaguely awake, it sort of felt like he was underwater. A bit floaty, and lots of pressure. Sounds were miles away, and when his eyes drifted open, nothing would focus.

Was he actually awake? Logan really wasn't sure. His most recent memories being nightmarish, blood splattered, and vague. Just a bit further back, and slightly clearer was a stabbing pain in his thigh- _fuck_. Yeah that was real. Arrow. It was an arrow in his leg, probably broken off and still there.

But that didn't matter much, because fuck, all those aches and sores were suddenly stabbing, burning pains. All the air gushed out of his chest in a silent moan of pain.

Who knows how long it lasted, because his eyesight faded out and Logan was gone again. Brain floating in nothingness, just trying to compensate for the pain and hold on.

At some point, something changed. A new sound, one that crashed through his consciousness,  not fitting in with the droning white noise. What was that?

 

“What a mess. Wheaty, check those chairs”

 

Huh. There were colors again. Some of them were moving.

 

“Jesus, the smell…”

 

“Been stewing in their own filth for days. Walker, get some windows open”

 

“Y-yes sir.”

 

The colors became _shapes._ Kinda-sorta people shapes. Yeah, those were people! Why were they walking on the wall?

 

“Someone shut that damn music off.” That was the first voice again, right?

 

“Christ, it's Sully. When did they get him?” That one was much closer. Actually, it was right next to Logan.

 

“Why are we even bothering with this they're all dead”

 

“Check them anyways”

 

“Why am I always stuck on corpse duty.” Ouch, ouch, fuck- they weren't on the wall, Logan had been laying on the floor. And now he was upright, trying to focus on what he was pretty sure was a face- “HOLY SHIT”

 

FUCK. Back on the floor, but now things hurt _again_.

 

“What-”

 

“Oh fuck”

 

“We got a live one, Walker go get the truck.”

 

Everything really hurt. Logan didn't realize it, but he was quietly moaning again, breath coming in harsh pants. What he did notice was that the droning was gone. The music had stopped. He wasn't sure why that mattered.

 

“Oh my god I'm so sorry-”

 

“Just gimme a hand here kid.”

 

As he was lifted up again, everything sharpened into focus, sight and sound. At the same time, a frozen shiver went down Logan’s back. He was gonna puke, nothing for it now, the pain was so intense he was going to be sick soon.

Two people hovered in his line of sight just staring for a moment before the kid spoke.

“Eli- is this?” ,looking from Logan to the other man.

“Yep. Its him alright,” the man, Eli, responded, while pulling a knife off his belt.

“What the fuck is the Deputy doing here?”

“Jacob took a shine to ‘em same as us”

 

* * *

 

Eli brought the knife up, watching the deputy’s eyes try to track him as he sawed at the rope tying him to the chair. The guy was a mess, dried blood crusted all over his face from his nose, mouth, and even his eyes and ears. Even in the dim light of the room Eli could see his face getting paler the longer he worked, quickly slashing the other ties on his wrists and legs. The last rope bound his head back against the headrest and as soon as it was cut, his head rolled forward limply. “You’re gonna be okay hero. Whitetail’s got ya now.”

 

* * *

 

As foggy as Logan’s head was, he knew that name. Not that he’d seen hide or hair of the militia group since he’d come to the north of the valley until now.

He didn’t have enough strength to lift his head and didn’t see it coming when the pair lifted his arms over their shoulders to support him and hauled Logan up out of the chair. Blacking out for a second from the head rush all he heard was, “We’re bringing ‘em back to the Wolf’s Den?”

 

“Where else?”

 

“Tammy’s not going to like this...”

 

“Don’t worry about Tammy, she’ll be fine.”

 

As his feet were drug along under him, Logan tried to breath through the pain but at this point it really was just to much.  He gagged and started heaving, nothing coming up but bile and stomach acid, adding to the mess on his face.

 

“Shit-”

 

“Come on, we gotta get him in the truck we can’t get caught out here”

 

As the trio moved outside, the glare of the setting- or was it rising? - sun hit Logan’s eyes making him flinch weakly and moan. His arms hurt even more now, there was circulation coming back after being bound so tightly.

Quite frankly, there was a whimper coming out with every breath he took and he couldn’t give less of a shit. Everything _hurt_.  

Crunching of gravel under foot, and the rumble of an old truck needing a new muffler was all he could process for a moment hanging limply in his rescuers grasps as they came to a halt.

 

“Walker, grab his feet, help us get him in here.”

 

“Yeah-h, okay”

 

Someone, Logan couldn’t see who, everything was getting progressively farther away and echo-y again, grabbed his feet and then he was going up and then back down again, resting on something hard. Probably the truck bed, but after a moment and some clanging, something softer was under his head. “You’ll be alright, just hang in there”

 

* * *

 

Wheaty was sat on the wheel well in the back of the truck, an arrow knocked on his bow and his braids flapping in the wind as they tore down back roads in the cool morning light towards the bunker.  The recently abandoned outpost had been their last planned stop for the night, and everyone had been looking forward to crashing for a couple hours sleep afterwards. But now that would be put on hold. How the fuck the Deputy, the Hero of the entire goddamned valley at this point, had fallen into Jacob Seed’s hands was a mystery. But now he was their responsibility, and there was no way in heaven or hell Eli was going to leave the man there to die.

It was a miracle they'd gotten him when they did, as Eli rode in the bed of the truck, the man's head in his lap and his bow loaded at his side, he became more and more concerned at what he saw.  Everywhere the man had been bound was rubbed more than raw, his flesh looking more like ground meat than anything else.

Even though he and Wheaty had carried him out, the kid probably could have flung him over a shoulder and done it on his own, the deputy was so light. And based on the heat radiating from him, the man likely had a high fever, probably infection. Every time he took a breath, it rattled in his chest.

It was going to be a race against time to save him, even if he was half as tough a bastard as the stories claimed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serious heads up, if you cant stand graphic descriptions of injury or gore squicks you out, be careful with this chapter.

They’d hauled the deputy into the Den’s shower room, managing to avoid Tammy on the way in, wanting to put him somewhere relatively clean, and not wanting any interruptions. After rolling out a sleeping bag pad on the floor they laid him down.

Between the blood and vomit, the man’s shirt was a total loss, and honestly it was easier to just cut it off than try and wrestle it off while he was unconscious. But there wasn’t anything that could have prepared Eli for the level of damage they found under it.

“Wheaty, go find the big med bag, the one we pulled out when Gus got shot. It should be on a shelf in the back storage room.”

 

“Damn.. yeah”

 

Stitched and unstitched stab wounds, a couple recently healing bullet holes, a set of gouges across his gut that looked like a grizzly mauling more than anything, and burns everywhere, skin melted and charred. But those weren’t the injuries that made him hesitate. Carved into his chest with choppy blade strokes, was the word WRATH. A likely parting gift from John Seed before the deputy had killed him, that was just starting to scar over. The other was long healed, but the line ran from one side of his rib cage to the other like someone had tried to saw the man in half.

The bruising alone looked awful,  like someone had tried to paint him with watercolors. He was shades of black and blue, green and yellow from his shoulders to his belt. It certainly lent credit to some of the stories that had been filtering up about him from down the valley. The man was a damn near terminator.  But even heroes have their limits.

Honestly, the poor guy needed a wash as much as anything else. At least that would hopefully keep his wounds from becoming infected, or more infected rather, and bring his fever down some.

Just as Eli was considering how to do that, Wheaty returned with the old military duffle that held most of the bunkers heavy duty first aid supplies.

 

“Set that out of the way and help me move him, we need to at least spray him down and get most of this mess off”

 

“Got it,” Wheaty dropped the bag on the bench by the door before going over and grabbing the foot end of the pad and lifting.

 

“You remember how to check for broken ribs?”

 

* * *

 

When Logan surfaced into consciousness again, this time he still felt achy but mostly he just felt tired and cold. Well, tired, cold, and what seemed like Cheeseburger the bear sitting on his chest. He couldn’t hardly breathe.

Not an unfamiliar sensation actually. Before even trying to open his eyes, he braced himself and took as deep a breath as he could. Just like he expected, it hurt like a motherfucker.

Broken ribs were always a bitch.  

His next breath came between clenched teeth, more a grunt than anything else.

To Logan everything still sounded like he was underwater, muted and echo-y. Music, something with a heavy bass, played somewhere in the distance. For whatever reason, it helped him relax somewhat, letting a little tension out of his shoulders.

His eyes were tacky when he cracked them open, dim overhead lights shining down though his eyelashes. A hand on his bare shoulder made him flinch, as it slid behind him and helped Logan sit mostly upright. A canteen floated into his line of sight, blurry to the point of seeing double.

 

“Take it easy, you’re ok. Need you to drink this”

 

As the canteen was held to his lips, some of the water ran down his chin and neck. What he could swallow was a relief, soothing his raw throat. He tried to follow it as the canteen was pulled away, forcing himself to sit up further. Logan sucked in another breath, trying and failing not to cough. Which, damn, that was one of the worst parts of broken ribs.

 

When he finally focused, it was on a woman storming into the room. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

 

“Now hold on. Wheaty and I agreed-”

 

The lady spun around, glaring at him now, “Oh you agreed?”

 

The kid threw his hands up defensively, water splashing out of the canteen, “Woah woah woah. I was at best an impartial observer-”

 

“This is stupid and this is dangerous! You both know better”

 

“Now hold on, what was I supposed to do? Leave ‘em there to die?” Eli turned away from washing his hands to face her.

 

“ _Yes_ ”

 

“ _Tammy_ ”

 

“They’d been in that room for god knows how long. I’ve seen what it does to people. You haven’t. You can’t trust this one.” There was some vehement pointing at Logan here, but he couldn’t see it because Wheaty had moved in between them.

 

“That’s what everyone said about _you_.” Eli leveled a look at Tammy, crossing his arms, “But luckily I didn’t listen. This is not up for discussion. We need ‘em. That’s all there is to it. Understand?”

 

After a long glare at the deputy, Tammy stormed back the way she came, shaking her head the whole way.

 

“You’re right, she took that real well”

 

“Out” Eli didn’t even turn, focused on the deputy as he struggled to stay upright without help.

 

“I didn’t even do anything…” Wheaty mumbled as he left.

 

Logan’s breathing had a bit of a hitch again, ribs protesting loudly to his position, but he didn’t look away from the man that had defended him.

 

“I meant what I said. We need you.” Eli watched him for a moment longer before walking over to the couch. Logan’s vision was starting to go double again and as the other man put an arm behind his shoulders he started to fade out.  “ Let’s get you some rest.”

 

* * *

  


“His fever’s not going down.”

 

Logan had been in and out of lucidity for a day at this point, catching distorted snaches of what was happening around him. Mostly just music and bits of conversation, but he was slightly more aware this time, enough to know he was being talked about.

 

“I know that. But he’s tough, he’ll pull through”

 

“What if he doesn’t? What if we’re better off if he doesn’t like Tammy says? We don’t actually know what Jacob’s been doing to them. We might be risking everyone-”

 

“Don’t you finish that sentence kid.” An exhausted sigh,  “I know he might be messed up, hell, this fever could screw him over as much as Jacob did. But he’s been the rallying point for the entire overthrow of Joseph's fucking cult. The entire county has been watching him at this point, and I’m not going to risk losing that….. Besides, if we’d found any of our own still alive in that hell hole we’d have gotten them out just the same.”

 

There was shuffling somewhere behind his head, a rustle of clothes, and creaking wood.

 

“About the only thing we can do now is hope the antibiotics help, and keep him hydrated. Hope that burns off the fever. I dunno what’s causing it, all the wounds we cleaned, hell even his wrists and ankles, are looking better and they were practically ground meat before.”

 

Silence fell and Logan started to drift off again. At least until he shifted, trying to burrow deeper under the blanket covering him and putting pressure on his thigh. The pain was white hot, shooting from his hip to knee and making him cry out.

 

“Christ-”

 

“Ah hell, he probably ripped some of the stitches out”

 

Footsteps round the couch and then there’s a hand brushing over his forehead, before resting on his shoulder. As Eli pulls the blanket off of him, Logan can feel wetness spreading under his leg where there is still part of an arrow embedded in his thigh. It had scabbed over at some point but was now bleeding sluggishly again.

 

Hands roam over him, peeling up edges of bandages to check them, “I’m not seeing anything, pads are all clean.”

 

He grits his teeth through being checked over, trying to string together a coherent thought through the pain. Eventually, Logan manages to gather himself enough to choke out, “Arrow- ‘ers an arrow in my damn leg”

Startled by the outburst, Wheaty nearly fell from his perch on the counter as Eli tightened his grip on Logan’s shoulder, “Where?”

 

“Thigh,” Logan fumbled around, groping blindly for the spreading stain on his leg.

 

“Easy, easy. We’ll get it,” Eli catches his hand, stopping the other man from doing anymore damage to himself. Carefully, he uses his other hand to pull the ragged edge of the cut off sweatpants they’d put him in above his knee, revealing the slowly growing puddle of blood under his leg.

 

Wheaty lets out a hiss of sympathy, having joined them by the couch, “How the fuck did we miss that?”

 

It looked awful, dark bruising and veins spreading around it, and it stunk too. Puss surrounding the jagged broken end of the arrow that barely peaked out of his thigh.

 

“Dunno, but this must have been how Jacob’s hunters slowed him down enough to catch if he didn’t take care of it before he got nabbed.”

 

The arrow had indeed been what stopped him when the hunters had come for him, and then it had promptly broken, leaving a good three inches of the shaft buried in his thigh for the last week.

 

“Sorry man, this is gonna hurt like hell”

 

“ ‘m already there… just pull it, ‘s just got a field point” Logan slurred. A broadhead would have passed straight through his leg and let him bleed out ages ago. At least then he wouldn’t have had to deal with this shit.

 

“We can’t just yank it out and slap a bandaid on it,” Turning away, Eli stood to grab what he needed from the med bag. “Kid, go wash your hands, I’m gonna need you to hold his leg down and keep pressure on it until I can stich this up.”

 

Why couldn’t they just let him go back to sleep?

 

“Eyes open Hero, need you to look at me for a second”

 

“Not a hero…  ‘m just Logan”

 

“I think just about everyone else around here would disagree with you on that. Alright then Logan, eyes up here”

 

When the deputy pried his eyes open, there was a clear mason jar dangling above of his face. “This is the fastest painkiller we’ve got right now. 180 proof. Some of this might at least take the edge off, do you want any?”

 

It didn’t take Logan long to come to the conclusion that yes, he definitely want some of that moonshine, because at this point it might just knock him out entirely. He nodded, trying to sit up. Eli helped, sliding an arm behind him and then stuffing another pillow behind his back.

It took a few minutes, but the moonshine rolled over Logan like a thunderstorm. A sharp kick before slowly mellowing out. He hadn’t eaten anything solid in days and the only other thing in his stomach was water so his usual tolerance was shot. It didn’t help that the last time he’d had more than a beer had been months ago either. He slumped down, nearly flat on the couch again as the ache in his ribs receded.

Right around the time everything started feeling fuzzy and distant again, Wheaty came back.

 

“Let’s get this over with quick. Wheaty, sit down there and keep your weight on his legs.” Eli directed the kid to sit at the end of the couch on Logan’s shins, not wanting him moving and kicking out in pain. “Hands up here, now put pressure around the wound. Just like that.”

 

Logan jerked, the pressure sharpening the pain for a moment.

 

“You still with us deputy? Deep breaths, I’m gonna get this out and then you can rest again.”

 

There was a sucking sound, and then the sickening feeling almost like something was trying to crawl up Logans throat, nearly making him puke as the arrow was removed. His leg gave a jerk, trying to twist away from the pain when it steadily increased, before suddenly leveling off. Logan panted like he’d run a marathon, groaning quietly and his stomach in his throat.

 

“God that’s nasty”

 

“Fucking lucky it didn’t hit bone, came awful close though”

 

The weight on his legs lifted for a moment.

 

“Hold on, still need you there while I wash this out and stitch it.”

 

The weight settled back down. And then suddenly it felt like Logan’s leg had been set on fire. He bucked, trying to throw the weight off and escape, but his energy was drained. He was just done. So Logan let everything go and dove back into the comforting darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

 

It took three days before the fever broke, and another 12 hours for Logan to actually wake up.  The first thing that ran through his mind was, ‘holy fuck I really need to piss.’

He sat up slowly, pains going from aches to stabbing if he moved too fast. Sitting in a chair beside the couch he had been resting on, was someone asleep. They’d probably been responsible for watching him.

He took the chance to take stock of himself. A compression bandage was wrapped around his chest, bracing his ribs and holding most of the gauze pads over his injuries in place. His wrists were wrapped in bandages that were stark white against his faintly tanned skin, spotting through in some places with blood. His ankles were wrapped similarly. His cargo pants that had survived his entire time in Hope County thus far were gone, replaced by a pair of cutoff sweatpants.

Carefully, he swung one leg and then the other over the side of the couch, planting his bare feet on the cold concrete floor. His right thigh burned like hell, but it wasn’t unbearable. Okay, good, now how to stand up? Logan scooted to the edge of the couch, and after taking a second, heaved himself up.

Bad plan. Really bad plan. He gets about halfway up and then his knees give out, dropping Logan right back on the couch where he started with a quiet squeak of springs. Looking around, the guy in the chair doesn’t seem to be waking up, so he’ll try again.

This time, Logan gets his feet under him, albeit very shakily. It takes a minute, but he manages to limp to the doorway, leaning on it and breathing heavily through grit teeth. Now where the fuck does he go from here? There's a long, low  workbench in the middle of the room covered in radio equipment and old records, but the next door way is clear at the other end of the room.

Just as he's about to let go of the door jam and try his luck, Logan hears boots on the concrete floor approaching. Honestly, his next move is on more instinct than any rational thought, because he immediately throws himself behind the workbench. He lands on already bruised and scraped hands and knees, ignoring the flare of pain as he crawls towards the corner where the bench meets the wall. Logan gets there just as the footsteps reach the room, tucking himself into the corner as they continue past.

Right as all the injuries he agitated make themself known, the shouting from the room he woke in starts.

 

“Walker, wake the fuck up man! Where the hell is he?!”

 

“Hm- What?”

 

“Dude, he's gone look- the deputy is gone! I left you here for 15 minutes and now- christ, Eli’s going to kill me”

 

“Oh f-fuck- I didn't… I never heard anything! He was there still asleep a few minutes ago Wheaty I swear”

 

It was right about this time that Logan heard a quiet scuff on the concrete, directly across the bench from him. He turned to look through the crates stacked haphazardly beside him under the bench and saw a pair of legs. When Logan looked back up, there was a shadow fallen across him. Eli was leaning over the bench looking down at the deputy curled in the corner. They just stared at each other for a moment before Logan tried to clear his throat.

His first words came out quiet and scratchy, “Ya’ll got a bathroom round here? Cause I really gotta piss.”

Eli’s face twitched, like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or not. “Yeah we do. Need a hand down there?”

Logan’s knees were tucked up to his chest, and after his mad dash to hide, his body was not cooperating, “Please”

After another long look, Eli straightens up, hollering, “Wheaty, come’re”

“Oh shit-” Boot steps getting closer, “Eli I don’t-”

“He’s right here, now gimme a hand”

The older man jabs a thumb in Logan’s direction and Wheaty pokes around the corner, eyes widening when he sees where he’s crouched.

“How the fuck-”

Logan clears his throat again, but it still comes out a croak, “Determination. And a fair bit of adrenalin.”

“You even know where you are Deputy?”

It took a few seconds before something scratched at the back of his brain, dimly remembering, “Wolf’s Den, right? And ya’ll are the Whitetails.”

“Yup”

They both come around and help Logan to his feet, directing and supporting him while he slowly limps to the bathroom.

He can use the toilet on his own thank you very much, but by the time he gets back to the couch, only Wheaty supporting him now, Logan is exhausted from his adventure. He barely manages to get comfortable before it’s lights out again.

* * *

 

And that’s how it goes for the next couple of days. Logan will wake up at random times, either needing to use the bathroom or hungry as he slowly regains his appetite.  Someone is almost always in the room with him, generally Wheaty or Walker. A guy named Gus a few times, and once he even woke up to Tammy glaring at him. Occasionally Eli as well.

As he manages to stay awake longer and longer each time, there is often conversation. Mostly about inane things, avoiding most personal topics. The truth is, Logan and the Whitetails are still somewhat wary of eachother. Friendly and helpful sure, but almost like interacting with Peaches, there’s still the sensation of dealing with a mostly wild animal that could turn on you. And they’d brought it right into their home, not knowing what to expect.

Eventually, Logan is confident enough on his feet to finally take a shower, rather than just wiping off like he has been. Someone scrounges up a set of abandoned clothes that should probably fit, and he hobbles his way to the bathroom with a promise to holler if he needs help.

 

* * *

 

The bathroom had the brightest lights in the bunker. As Logan carefully unwrapped the bandages around his chest, more injuries appeared in the harsh light. Eventually he dropped the loose pile in the sink. One hand resting on the top of the toilet to hold himself up, Logan finally looked in a mirror for the first time in weeks.

Hands shaking, he held one arm out in front of himself, just staring. He’d known his time in Hope County had marked him, but it was another thing to see it so.. vividly. There were bruises just starting to change colors on his ribs. Another on the shoulder he had driven into a tree at full speed on a fourwheeler. A now permanently crooked nose from the number of times it had been broken. A smattering of bullet puckers that he had picked up in places his ballistic vest had failed. Black and blue knuckles, crooked fingers that never had the chance to heal right.

He was just a walking wound at this point. Mind, body, and soul. This place had that effect on everyone it seemed.

 

 

Turning around, he carefully looked over his shoulder. His back was much of the same. A patchwork of colors and injuries in various stages of healing. There was a new gouge maring the tattoo that spread across his shoulders, which was a shame, because that one had just been finished before he’d moved to Hope County.

None of his new scars can really compete with the ones from his past however. Some from Afghanistan and some from ranch work. But especially the ones that could be considered ‘self inflicted’, even if he hadn’t been the one with the blade.  The bold line across his chest and massive patch of rippled skin on his left thigh are marks Logan will never be ashamed of.

 

* * *

 

Soon enough, Logan has to get back to work. No rest for the wicked as they say.

 

The bruises are nearly gone the day Eli sits down across the kitchen table from him. The serious look on his face has Logan setting aside the arrows he’d been refletching.

“We spent a long time trying to find you Deputy. Dutch spoke highly of you… Look I’ll get right to it. I know what you did down south. Got the Father thinkin’ twice now, and that’s meant good things for us. We’re bleeding bodies up here, no two ways about it. There were over a hundred members of the Militia when things kicked off. There’s only about ten of us accounted for now. I don’t know if we’ll be able to hold out more that another week at this rate. Times are desperate to say the least…”

With a heavy sigh, he pulls a hastily folded map out of his pocket, “I’m trying to get some foot holds back, so I sent a handful of Whitetails out to sabotage the visitors center- the cult’s been using it as a depot for that Bliss shit,”  Eli says, pointing to the marker for the entrance to Whitetail State Park on the map.

“But our guys walked right into a fucking trap. They’ve been taken hostage and we’re up against the clock now. If I just send another group up there we risk losing them all in one fell swoop…”

He shifted again, leaning on the table now and focusing intently on the deputy. Logan knows what’s coming before he can even say it.

“But you, you’re something that cult ain’t ever been expecting.  You’re the only one I got around here that can handle this. I’m trusting you with this. I’m countin’ on ya to bring those folks home.”

Logan level a long look at him “You send me up there, you aren’t risking anymore of your own. An’ you know what kind of work I can do. Not that hard of a choice for you is it? Still, it’s the least I can  do after all you’ve done for me”

Eli met him head on with a nod before continuing, “You’ll need to go in quiet- cult gets wind you’re coming around, they’re liable to kill our people. You can use that bow you’ve been borrowing. Ain’t nobody coming back for that one. ” The look on his face was tight, with anger or regret Logan couldn’t tell.

“Alright. I’ll be gone soon as I can load up.” Logan gathered up his finished arrows, heading for the armory when Eli spoke again.

“Get our people back Logan… Good Luck”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, he's on the right track now. Logan just needs to prove himself.
> 
> Also, for the record, I don't have access to the game, so the layout of the Wolf's Den might be a bit wonky, cause i've only seen parts in videos
> 
> Now with art!
> 
> If you want some more of my ramblings and art, I'm over on tumblr @ Sundavr

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome!
> 
> So most of the dialog in this chapter is taken directly from the cutscene in game, but thats sort of necessary to set the scene as it were.  
> From here on out the work will be fairly AU, following mostly the events of the game, but... changing a few things. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


End file.
